


Night Shift

by snowkatze



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 1, First Kiss, Insomnia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sun and Moon prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: After the death of his mother, Baz always takes the night shift at the café he's working in. He's always twenty minutes early, because he's pining after the boy on the day shift.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 9
Kudos: 160





	Night Shift

I come in twenty minutes early. Snow calls me ridiculous and over-punctual. (He doesn't know the half of it.)

I walk into the café and sit down right in front of Snow, who is fiddling with the paper cups. I drop my bag in the seat next to me and Snow rolls his eyes at me. His hair is like a ray of sun on top if his head. When he gives Bunce his brilliant smile, I suppress a sigh and put on a measured smile. I do have some dignity. (Not much.)

“Hello there, Mister Tall, Dark, and Gloomy,” he says to me. If I didn't know Snow was an oaf, I'd think he was flirting with me.

“Are you still on about the Vampire thing?” I ask, careful to sound casual.

“I will never not be on about the Vampire thing,” he says and his eyes are bright. He looks ten times as alive as I feel. (He might have a point about the Vampire thing.)

Snow makes a show of leaning to the side to look past me out the window.

“Sun's just gone down,” he says, “as always when you show up.”  
“You know, the night shift tends to be at night,” I say, pull out my book. I think it's _Wuthering Heights_ , I might have shoved it in my backpack this morning

“Come on, Baz. You can tell me. What happens when you step into the sunlight? Burst into flames? Crumble to ashes? Glitter?”  
He wiggles his eyebrows, and he looks ridiculous doing it. Evidently, my standards are all the way down at the bottom of the barrel.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” I smirk.

I open my book on a random page and let my gaze fall on it, but immediately look back up at the spectacle that is Simon Snow. Bunce raises an eyebrow at me. She's not fooled for a second. It's lucky Snow isn't quite as intellectually gifted.

“So what can I get you?” he says and grabs a mug. “Pint of blood?”  
“I think my usual will be fine for now,” I answer and look down at my book. “Though I'll take the blood to go if it's that of a virgin.”

“Oh, I see,” Snow says and grins at me, which is rare, since he doesn't actually like me. “Looking to summon a demon?”

“Don't be silly,” I say flatly. “Demons have Saturdays off.”

“Oh, there's Unions in hell?”

Snow starts preparing my Pumpkin Mocha Breve.

“There will be once I've implemented my reforms,” I answer. I watch the lean muscles on Snow's arms. For reasons unfathomable to me, he has his sleeves rolled up. I would make that illegal if I were king of hell.

“That's three sugars,” I say quickly, leaning over the counter. Snow holds eye contact and drops in a forth.

“Oops,” he says lightly. I scowl at him.

“Okay, that's enough of the flirting,” Bunce calls and I can feel my face going warm, but Snow is already looking away. “There's an actual customer coming, so get your butt over here.”

I straighten out the pages of the book, but keep my eyes on Snow. He walks to the other register to take the order. I prop up my head on my arm. Snow has his friendly customer smile on, which is not as nice as his other smiles, but still quite the sight.

“You know, you could just be on time for once,” Snow announces once he's back. “The business isn't gonna fall apart if you're three minutes late.”

“I _am_ on time,” I say, “though you wouldn't know what that's like.”  
I'm taking a wild guess here, but it's not really a stretch, given all that I know about Snow's personality.

“I would say I use my time _efficiently_ ,” Snow counters.

I snort.

“Pray tell, what important things are you up to in the morning before work?”

“I... might have lost track of time while watching _Bake-Off_ before.”

“Of course you have.”  
Snow slides my drink across the counter.

“You know, it would do you good to cheer up a little once in a while,” he says, fixing me with his gaze.

“It would do you good to keep your nose out of what's none of your business,” I bite back. Snow huffs and turns his back to me.

I don't have a lot of nice things any more. But I do have twenty minutes each day. Snow is  _bright_ . He has the day shift, because that's what he deserves. He's a golden boy.

I don't need daylight. Or Vitamin D. Snow is laughing at something that Bunce said. I don't need it. Least of all the sun.

I go into the back room to change into my work shirt.

“You ready to take over?” Snow asks. He's so used to my animosity that it doesn't faze him any more.

“Obviously,” I say.

He's talking to Bunce on his way out. He doesn't look back even once.

Evidently, my standards are so high that I might as well be shooting for the sun.

Dev says it's not good for me to be alone with my thoughts for an extended period of time.  
I say Dev can go fuck himself.

I work the night shift alone, because there's few customers. There's a guy with a laptop and glasses that comes in every evening and stays until one. He doesn't talk to me, of course.

Sometimes, I watch the moon through the store front. Sometimes, I watch the people walking past the shop, wondering if any of them can be enticed for a hot cup of coffee. Most of the time, I'm thinking about Snow.

I don't know what it's like to have things any more. All I know is that this is better than sleep. And you get free coffee, sometimes. And nobody bothers you until four in the morning. So that's what I'm doing.

At one am I find Snow's jacket in the back room.

And I look at the moon, and I think about new coffee creations.

And I look at the moon, and I think about Simon Snow's smile.

And I look at the moon, and I think about the way her voice sounded when she said good-bye to me that night.

It's two am and I'm counting the paper cups next to the coffee machine when the doors slide open and Snow steps in. I wonder if I fell asleep for a moment, then straighten my back.

“Has a Vampire bitten you, or what are you doing still up?” I ask when he's at the counter. Snow makes a noise that could be vaguely interpreted as a protest.

“Just gimme some coffee,” he says tiredly.

“I feel like you should not be drinking coffee right now.”  
“Tea, then.”

I go to grab a mug. Snow's never been here after his shift before. It's vastly irritating.

Snow sits in silence until I put the mug down in front of him.

“Careful, hot,” I say right when he puts the mug to his lips and yelps.

“Give me a warning, next time,” he mumbles, just to be irritating.

“Bad night, then,” I say, but not like a question, because I know that I'm the last person Snow would want to tell his troubles to. I irritate him, too. He doesn't get why I take the night shift. (No one gets why I take the night shift.)

“Nightmare,” he says.

“You've come to the right place then,” I say and spread my arms. “The secret lair of insomniacs.”

“It's the same as during the day.”  
“It's really not.”  
“It is!”  
“Can't you smell the melatonin in the air?” I say and take a deep breath. “Ah.”

“That's the sleep hormone?”

“Yeah.”

Snow quietly sips his tea for a few moments. Then he looks around.

“You're right,” he amends. “It is different. In a creepy way.”

“No, it's a safe space for the sleepless. Don't argue.”  
“It's like something out of a horror movie.”  
“Only one who's going to murder you here is me if you keep insulting the café under my reign.”  
Snow blinks up at me.

“I do my best to make it homely,” I say, even though I don't change the café at all when I work.

“You're just radiating vampire energy everywhere,” he says displeased.

I'm not a vampire, but I  _am_ half dead, so I don't argue.

Snow lowers his head and tips his cup, looking awfully pretty. My next words just come out.

“Did you come here just to torment me?”

He keeps staring into his tea.

“I came here because I'm tormenting me,” he says eventually. “With thoughts.”

“Really? The sunshine child?” I say and regret it immediately.

“Is it really so bad to try and stay optimistic? Am I really so naïve?” Snow's jaw is tight. “I know you think I'm stupid.”  
“I didn't think-” 

I pause and realize that I was the one being stupid. I swallow.

“So, bad thoughts, huh?”

He softens, even thought I don't deserve it.

“It's my – my foster – Davy. He thinks I'm supposed to be so grateful – but -”  
He stops and clutches the handle of the mug. I lean back against the wall and don't take my eyes off him.

“But I dream about him. I dream about – family dinners. And watching football together. And he gave me a place to stay – but it's never been – it's not what I really wanted.”  
“A home.”  
“Yeah. No home for an orphan like me, I know.”  
I've never been good at saying the right thing, but I try.

“You don't owe him anything,” I say.  
“I'm too old to still want this,” he says, chocked up. I want to reach out to him. “I'm an adult – I – I'm supposed to make my own family.”  
“No. You're always allowed to want this,” I say. His hand is on the counter, I could just touch it. “You're not supposed to be all grown up immediately. You're not supposed to be all alone once you've grown up. And you deserve to have it.”  
“But I won't,” he says slowly.

“But you deserve it,” I repeat. Tears roll down his face and I want to wipe them off. I'm frozen behind the counter.

He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Geez,” he says. “I'm so fucked up. I have a nice dream but it's a nightmare because -”  
“It's okay.”

Snow finishes his tea and I move to make another cup. He's staring at the counter until I give him the next cup.

“Baz,” he says and his eyes are shining from tears. “Will you tell me why you take the night shift?”  
I look from his eyes to his cup, then out the window. I don't know why he's let me in. But the door is open now, and if I can see him, he can see me. He drinks half of the cup before I speak again.

“My mother,” I say and swallow. “My mother hung the moon.”

“Oh,” he says softly and I can't meet his eyes. “When-”  
“A few months ago. Car accident.”

I wish he would let me take his hand.  
“And I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw her – the last time she said good-bye to me-” I say and grip the counter. “How are people just – gone?”  
He sits there and I stand there so long until he has finished his cup and starts fiddling with the tea bag.

“So when you're talking about insomniacs-” he starts.

“Yeah. That's me. Ruling the kingdom of insomniacs.”

He looks at me and my hair is not long enough to fall into my face. I turn around and make another cup of tea, this time for me.

“So we're not so different after all,” he says to my back.

Sometimes I wish there was something about me left to like. But it's just sleepless nights and mean comments and self-loathing thoughts. And he's across the counter, unreachable.

This is more than twenty minutes.

I don't think I can take it.

“You should get back to sleep,” I tell him.  
“So should you,” he says, voice still so soft.

“My shift ends in an hour.”

“Not what I meant.”

Maybe he does like me. Maybe he wouldn't mind -

He's getting up from the counter.

“Guess I'd better-”  
“Wait,” I call, suddenly remembering his jacket in the back room. I walk past the bench and toward the coat hanger, shuffling through the forgotten coats quickly until I find his jacket. I rush to get the jacket back to him, even though I'm sure he's waiting for me.

He appears in the door and I trip over someone's shoe on the floor, stumbling into him. He looses his balance immediately.  _He's the sun and I'm crashing into him._

He comes down at his knees and lets himself sink backward. I have nowhere to fall but on top of him.

“Simon,” I say and suck in a breath. And I know it's a bad idea. And I know that I'm not meant for him. But his face is right in front of me – so close. And I'm about to make a very, very bad decision when – _he_ kisses _me_.

I'm entirely sure he hasn't thought this through. I'm almost completely sure he's going to change his mind. But he's let me in tonight. And his lips are soft. And his hands are warm against my cheeks. And I might take the day shift next week.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am a day late for this, because I am an organizational disaster.


End file.
